Wars of Our Fathers
by cupidity11
Summary: Afraid of losing the battle when they die, both enemies decide to create a clone of themselves. The clones are top notch after years of failure, and like their fathers before them, hate each other intensely. Or do they? ZaDrx2
1. Chapter 1

Obnoxious yelling. "Catch me if you can, worm baby!"

Answering scowl and witty come back. "Shut up, space boy! You'll be under the knife soon."

The green skinned boy laughed, light pink zipper shaped teeth glistening in the full moon's light. Adrenaline ran through him, as tantalizing as ever.

The human on the other hand was wheezing, wiping a hand over his dripping forehead. Too much…over heating. But still he gave chase, legs weakening but never slowing down to rest. Not for one second would he give up. Never.

The alien smirked, spinning gracefully around a corner. Or at least he intended to do such a thing, after all he was perfect. It should've been effortless to twirl and keep running. Instead he heard a large snap and vile, vicious pain jerked its way up his leg to his hip. He bit down on his lip, drawing blood as he went down. He rolled, from the velocity he'd been traveling, head smacking, cracking, into the concrete, ribs breaking since they were so unbearably fragile.

The harsh cry finally broke loose, echoing, lost in the empty street.

The human's face was red, eyes glistening behind the lenses that hid the real pain that danced in fading amber eyes, metallic red trickled from his nose signaling the fact that his body was shutting down. He dropped a few feet from the alien, shaking…sweat dripping down his face, unable topant as his lungs were giving out. Spots danced in front of his vision, impairing it. He reached a shaking hand out to touch the fallen, dying irken, to win the game of tag, before he too collapsed onto the floor eyes wide, blank…unseeing.

It was silent in the vast street, the two dead enemies not a few inches apart.

A furious, rage filled scream sounded from somewhere nearby.

"Another pair of failures!" The Irken stormed into the dirty street, pressing a button and it faded to a high metal dome.

"Zim…calm down." Dib said following behind the frustrated alien. His amber eyes fell to the pair of dead children on the ground. Crouching, he examined the smaller version of himself and the younger one of his alien enemy.

"How can I 'calm down' Dib-monkey-stink? This is the 18th time they've done this! Eighteen! We've got to finish this soon if we ever hope to continue our glorious battle! All must be perfect…but it isn't working out like Zim planned at all!" Zim smashed his fist into the close by metal wall, a sneer on his face.

"It's going to take time. You knew this. Now, stop having a temper tantrum and help me move them." He stood with the smaller Dib, maybe 11, in his arms. "We have improvements to make."

10 years later…

The taller teenager shoved a revolver against the shorter one's green cheek. His brown eyes glistened in the lab's artificial light.

"What are you going to do now, Ziim?" He ran the butt of the gun down the smooth surface of the other boy's face. "I have you in my clutches…weak…pathetic." He spat out, radiating contempt.

"Silence, Dal-Thing, and Ziim shall tell you." He looked down at his nails, buffing them against his uniform. His creator's uniform. With magenta eyes, clear of any insanity he gazed up at the teenager, whose hands were shaking so subtly only Ziim could really tell. They had been fighting for all their lives. Even as toddler and smeet, taught to hate and revile. To wage war. To spill blood.

Dal gave in and remained silent; wanting to hear the plan of his nemesis, eyes narrowed, the silken amber peeking through black lashes longer than any boy's had a right to be.

It remained just their heavy breathing, the scent of their hate and the heat from the previous chase. The adrenaline was high and the gloomy street lights flickered once, making the shadows covering the boy's faces disappear for only a few seconds.

"Tell me now, Ziim!" Dal commanded, shoving the butt of his gun much more forcibly against his enemies face, when not getting an immediate answer from the green menace.

Ziim smirked and put a finger against Dal's lip's, whispering a ".shh." His antenna perked a little to listen, for the tale-tell noises of feet drifting away and low conversation falling down a hallway not far away.

"Ziim?"

"They're gone."

There was a second of highly tense air, of eyes locked, skin tight…anticipation.

Then Dal slammed his lips down on Ziim's, trying to consume the other. Ziim moaned and wrapped his skinny arms around his neck, jumping and wrapping his legs around Dal's waist, before he was shoved back up against a holographic wall, desperate to make their skin touch.

"Ziim…" Dal hissed, biting down harshly on the smaller man's mouth, running his piercing across it to ease the hurt he might've caused. The alien responded eagerly to the touches like always, giving as good as he got.

It was always like this; hurried, insanely wild, heat licking up their insides. The panic…knowing they only had a small amount of time together before they were forced to pretend again. To become enemies. To become their fathers, their creators.

The alien writhed against his lover, large magenta eyes falling shut, as he abandoned all sacred thought for this moment…this moment alone in Dal's arms. Where he was so much more than just a weapon, a tool to be used in the continuing war between the humans and Irkens.  
>Dal whimpered, feeling found instead of lost when he was touching Ziim. Felt like he might be something other than a clone made by his dad, to keep on fighting. To finish this stupid fight that didn't matter anymore. Here he felt safe and more than a little consumed by the beautiful male before him, clutching him like a life line.<p>

"D-Dal…I…need…t-this…I-" The irken stuttered, claws clenching and unclenching the fabric of the trench coat Dal wore like a shield. The human nodded, he understood. Understood too well maybe.

"I need you, Ziim." Dal hissed, against light jade bruised lips. Then they gave in to the urge, knowing by now that there was no use fighting. If only the men responsible for this thought the same thing…

************************************************************************************

Zim, content at last, flopped down on the pink couch that had been in the turquoise base for many, many years, watching the Dib-Stink pace like everything was going to fall apart at any moment. Foolish Earth child.

"Stink-breath, what on Irk are you doing?" The question was forced out of curiosity. When the Dib got like this the only way to get anything out of him was to ask a specific question.

"Nothing…it's just, I don't know." Dib ran a hand down the back of his shaved neck, glancing anywhere but at the irken lounging on the couch like a cat.

"What do you mean nothing? What's wrong? Everything is perfect now. They hate each other and are sufficient in their strengths, personality data bases, and have enough uniqueness not to be exactly like us. They are perfect. Well at least Ziim is. I don't know about that meat brain of yours."

Dib flicked Zim upside the head, not in the mood for a qualm, rather exhausted from taking notes. Even after 10 years of designing the two and growing them to match a perfect levels of intelligence, vigor, stealth and originality something still felt off.

It wasn't the IQ. Both at least their creator's equal.

Not the strength. Each able to lift the other's weight and then some.

Stealth. Pah-leese. Easy enough to engineer the knowledge of how to break and enter without any noise.

Age. Nope. Not too young, not too old. Just right to keep up with the stress it took to fight another human being to the death every day.

So what on Ir-earth, was it?

"I don't know, Zim. Something just feels off about the entire thing. Like…there's something we're missing." Not wanting to hear anything negative, Zim grunted and shoved a sandwich in Dib's direction.

"Here, hyooman. You have earned the reward of a piece of meat between two bread slices. Enjoy and be silent."

"But, Zim I do-"

"Shove it down your throat or I'll do it for you."

When Zim said things in that tone of voice…Dib shoved the sandwich in his mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

Ziim threw the remote away from himself, yelling in a fit of rage. "Damn it! Fuck! Fuck! Jilkon!" Spitting several curses, saliva flying from his mouth, he tried to ignore the other more stupid liquid that poured from his face. It dripped down from stupid holes in his eyes which were a similar shade of magenta to his creator's only lighter.

Sliding down a nearby tree, he curled his legs close to him, forehead pressing into his knees. The black leggings were soon soaked with nearly blue tears, the tips of his shiny boots illuminated by the fire not far off.

Burning in a lazy inferno the ship he'd been attempting to pilot with the remote had crashed into the soft dirt, due to complications that always arose. It was as if he was cursed. Defective…but, that wasn't true, right?

Ziim sniffled, hating the weepiness; it signaled that he was weak. Wiping away any traces of the moment of broken pride, with a bright pink sleeve, he struggled to a standing position and glared at the Voot cruiser. It was the bane if his existence. It wouldn't let him fly.

Why couldn't he just fly away?

***************

Dal hit the punching bag with enough force to make it swing backwards and hit the metal wall with a sharp bang. His hand was sore now, probably going to bruise later but still his fists pummeled the bag imagining it as his 'father', Ziim's father…the whole fucking worlds under his hands.

Sweating, Dal laid his head against the bag, and shut his eyes imagining Ziim; so alive and violent. He was like his creator, with the green skin and the beautiful pink eyes. But, damn, on the inside he was the exact opposite. When he smiled those eyes danced and swirled with never ending color. His face crinkled up when he was happy, face flushed blue when he wanted to cry. His laughter wasn't mean or vicious and mocking…but, it rang on and on, like church bells on a breeze.

A stray thought entered Dal's mind, one that had been shoved and kicked to the back of his thoughts for a long time now. It surfaced and refused to back down again.  
>With a shuddering sigh, he let himself finally think it; I'm in love with Ziim. There was some relief in just admitting it.<p>

But, as long as their creators hated each other, that didn't matter.

Dal let out a frustrated yell and hit the bag as hard as he could with all the rage, hate, sorrow and love he felt.

The bag broke.

***************

"Dal!" Dib yelled up the stairs, hoping it reached the attuned ears of his 'son' whom occupied his old room. They still lived in the same house, the same neighborhood. The enemy ship between the two nemeses had prevented him from ever wanting to move. So, even after his father had died of a lab accident and Gaz had left for college, he was still here. Still hating the alien and still convinced he was doing good for the Earth.

"Yeah, dad?" Dal peaked his head out of his room, blinking big brown eyes in his father's direction.

"I'm heading over to Zim's now. Want to come?" It didn't enter his mind that it sounded like he was going to visit his enemy, almost like old friends getting together to chat. This was normal. The two of them switching houses every other night to discuss Dal and Ziim, and the plans for the future and the past…  
>The teenager had to hide the excitement in his voice.<p>

"Yeah. Um, sure. Let me grab some stuff first and I'll be down." Ducking back inside his room, he quickly shoved a change of clothes, a few new CDs he thought the other would like, and a cheesy horror movie. The last thing he grabbed was hidden deep inside his closet. A silver pair of handcuffs, well used.

Running down the steps, he smiled slightly up at his father. "Okay, ready."  
>Dib nodded, and pushed his glasses up on his nose farther, as they were slipping down. It was a problem he'd always had.<p>

As they walked down the street to Zim's base, Dib's mind wandered as it always did. Nothing seemed to go right for him. Bills to pay, and no idea where his next pay check was coming from. He'd never gotten married, always too weird to date. Not that he even wanted to. What if he wasn't raising Dal right? They had to get the kids into high skool soon. Buzzing filled his brain; worries flowed over him, drowning him. Hands in pockets, Dib sighed around the same time Dal did but for different reasons.

The green house was in sight and Dib rung the doorbell once before shoving the door open. His golden eyes swept over the odd, little living room stopping on the alien waiting for them with chin raised and arms behind his back, those burgundy eyes watching them intently.

Immediately all the worries, the voices of failure ceased to exist. Nothing existed outside of Zim. Outside of the world they'd created together. Taking a step towards the irken, Zim stepped forward as well and they met in the middle.

"Zim."

"Dib-Stink. Are you ready?"

Dib, smirked and nodded, motioning for them to head to the kitchen where they could discuss their latest plan for war. Not that they would do the fighting. No they just let the kids do that.

"Hey, um…Zim?" Dal asked quietly, always a little wary of the other irken.  
>He turned, hands on his hips as he considered the boy.<p>

"What do you want, Dal-Clone?"

"Is, Ziim down stairs?" Already edging towards the elevator, Dal waited for the other's answer. Zim's eyes narrowed, sighing dramatically. Filthy kids and their war. It was obvious the child wanted to go fight.

"Yes. But not too hard tonight. The two of you have a big battle next week." Zim sniffed and walked into the kitchen. Dib smirked at his son, motioning for him to go do whatever he wanted before following the alien.

Dal waited until he knew the creators were deep in conversation before shoving into the lift and pressing the button a hundred times. Impatiently, he rocked back and forth on his heels, squee-ing when it finally opened.

Brown eyes surveyed the area. He dropped his bag on the floor, and slunk deeper into the lab, smiling when he spotted the irken hunched over a table, making calculations on his latest flight attempt most likely.

Two arms slipped around his waist and Ziim shrieked, fists clenching as he twisted around in the hold, kicking out, before doing a one-two punch. Of course, Dal had expected this, giving a loud laugh, only ever heard when he was with the other clone, dodging expertly before snatching Ziim's hands in his, yanking him closer.  
>The alien scowled at him, disapprovingly.<p>

"You're such a jerk. One day I'm gonna beat your ass." Dal just grinned.

"Ya know, somehow I doubt that. You'd rather be groping it." There was no rebuttal there. Ziim reached over and flicked a switch, hidden under the table, made just for these occasions. It automatically replaced the camera feed with a fight scene between them.

That done, Dal leaned down and brushed his lips over the irken's forehead, sliding down his cheek and drifting until he got to that sensitive area that had no nose, dropping one little peck there. The places where he'd caressed with his mouth grew smoky blue, those large magenta eyes drifting shut with wonder.

Of course, Ziim got revenge, rising on tip toes, claws digging into his lover's back, as he nibbled on the other boy's chin. A red serpentine tongue slid out and licked his neck, soothing the pain where his sharp teeth might've hurt.

Dal whimpered softly, leaning down a bit to allow the alien more skin to torture. His arms tightened around Ziim and lifted him up to sit on the table behind them.  
>Finally the anticipation was too much, too overwhelming. Their feelings kept growing, the emotions and physical need increasing until in one explosive beat their lips crashed into one and other, a super nova of heat, fire engulfing their bodies until they writhed inside of it, loving every moment.<p>

It was moments like these that they were real, not just flesh and stored knowledge. They recognized each other as people, knew each other since childhood, understanding the horrors and agony, the dreadful dread of having to hurt each other in this war that should've been over ten years ago.

As Dal thrust himself over Ziim, eyes rolling back in his head from the immense pleasure that tingled down his spine, it became obvious to him that if there was ever something to live for it was beneath him right now, screaming out his name in as many tongues as he knew.

Ziim needed this, as he always did. Always needed Dal and the tantalizing seconds they shared. When he failed, as he did over and over again, the human inside of him, made it all worthwhile. Made being on Earth, away from the stars where he belonged, a lot more bearable.

Together they reached the edge, crying out in a chorus that made music, high and low. Sharp shards of glass glittered behind their visions, their very reality being distorted with the end of their climax.

It was moments like the one afterwards, as they held hands, bodies pressed together, cooling in the cool lab air, that made them not just real, but better than they could ever hope to be. It made them different from their 'creators'.

Foreheads touching, Ziim's antenna brushed through Dal's hair, eyes closed.

Dal couldn't help but think of a future where maybe one day they could be together, hold hands in public, smile at each other in front of their parents without having to suffuse it with malice. Where maybe he could kiss his Irken during the day, wrap him close and have them both know that they were going to make something of themselves.

Ziim imagined the two of them out in the stars, floating and free. No longer tied to their 'creators' or the mediocre life they led outside from each other. Of them together forever and happy and doing the things they were meant to do.  
>Dal knew he loved Ziim.<p>

Ziim was beginning to think he might even love Dal, if what the Wikipedia told him was true. Confusing and wonderful described it perfectly.

Stretching, Dal sat up with a small, sad smile. "What do you say we watch that horrible movie I brought, eh?"

It wasn't a far jump off the table, but still he held his arms out for Dal's help down, wrapping his arms around the other boy for a piggy back ride.

"Sounds good. Take me to the red corn syrup and plastic flesh." He grinned, knowing positively that he did love the human.

He knew because the way Dal said 'we' made him so very thankful he was no longer a, 'I' and they were no longer, 'You' and 'Me.'

A.N:

Tis adoreable, no?

I dunno. I felt all bad because I have not been supplying you with much lately. . Stoopid finals. Therefore I had some free time and my folks were out for their 15th anniversary and I figured, "I SHALL WRITE DAMN IT!"

Apparently, long days and tornado warnings make fluff and smex. XD It should do that more often.

Is it okay? Haven't written in WOOF in a while...LOL  
>Omg...Wars Of Our Fathers...WOOF!<p>

Okay...high on Mnt Dew...  
>Love You guys.<p>

I don't own Invader Zim...


	3. Chapter 3

A drop of sweat trickled down Dib's forehead, amber eyes darting back and forth between the Irken in front of him and what could be his inevitable demise.

Said Irken was grinning, the type of smile with gaping teeth, shining in the dim light of the moon. It was quite menacing, especially since they both knew what was coming next. Closing his eyes, Dib sat back in his chair and waited for Zim to get it over with already.

"I win! Fourteenth time in a row, Dib-Loser!" Victoriously, he threw his cards down on the table causing the large pile of them to explode on to the kitchen floor. Dib glared at the Irken, knowing they would never find all of those cards now.

"Shut up, Space-boy. You must have them rigged or something. There's no way you could win this much." Crossing his arms, Dib lifted his chin snobbily. He really was a snarky bitch and why not put that to good use?

Zim however was an arrogant asshole and therefore ignored said snarky bitch. "Silence! Your just a sore loser! Zim is the master of this Old-Maid and you will bow before my almighty power!"

Dib suddenly realized that most of their battles were settled this way now and days. In between coaching their children, the only way to prove their animosity was card games. It was rather pathetic, yet each new battle brought just a little more anger, a little bit more pent up rage. One day he was going to snap and actually punch that smug-moron. "In your dreams, you Over-Grown-Lizard."

That was a name Zim hadn't been called since elementary. He wasn't too fond of its return. He did NOT look like a lizard. Hissing at the man before him, Zim put his hands forward onto the table and leaned closer. "Stink-Brain."

How could his brain smell? It made no sense."Hideous Monster!"

So not true. "Muffin face!" Smirking, Zim knew that one would strike a chord.  
><em>'Low blow, Zim.'<em> The memory of that muffin was enough to make him shiver. "Short-Fry!"

Short? SHORT? Clawed hands dug into the table, practically a death grip. "Big-"

Golden eyes went wide, pupils dilating. "You say that word Zim…"

"Head."

"Ahhhh!" With a rage filled yell, Dib threw the table aside and lunged fro the Irken, slipping on the cards and bringing them both down to the linoleum floor. They struggled, not so much throwing puntches as scratching, and fumbling.

Truth was Zim knew that the Dib was getting older. Near to his thirties and after all the stress he'd put on his body for the first twenty years of his life, time hadn't been kind to his joints. So, the Irken didn't put as much force into the fight as he might have if it had been anyone else.

Not that he would ever admit that aloud. Or ever. Even to himself.

Pinned to the filthy floor by the worm-baby, Zim yanked on his arms, hating how weak he felt. So to make up for the lapse, he yelled obscenities.

Dib frowned, waiting patiently until Zim stopped. Eventually, the alien calmed down and stared suspiciously up at his old-time nemesis.

Little pin pricks worked its way up Dib's spine, the longer he stayed on top of Zim, the more time dragged as he stared into the deep, incredibly hypnotic depths of those eyes. Suddenly, he was fifteen again and the world was against him, the people he'd protected hated him and the Irken beneath him was the only one that mattered.

The desire back then had almost ruined him. He'd convinced himself it was the hormones, the stupid thing called puberty. Obviously, Dib wasn't gay. Especially not for his enemy.

But, then how could he explain away the desperate urge to kiss Zim, now?  
>It was impossible to. His glasses were slipping and it didn't matter as his eyes drifted lower to smooth, tantalizing lips. They glimmered, always looking as if the skin had been polished. They looked good enough to eat, too good to be true.<p>

The Irken beneath him had always been that way; too unbelievable to not be another one of his childhood dreams.

Yet, here they were, nearly twenty years later.

The man leaned in closer. Zim's breath hitched in his throat. He wasn't stupid, the look in Dib's eyes was familiar, the tense moment seen a million times on television, movies. No…no.

"Dib-Lust, you do what Zim thinks you are about to do, and I WILL kill you."  
>Dib did it anyway.<p>

******

They'd given up on the movie quite a while ago, instead focusing on Ziim's flying plan. If all went as they hoped, they could leave Earth in a month. Give or take a few weeks.

Only Irken technology was a tricky b with an itch, and Ziim was not happy with what had happened last time he'd attempted to control it. Dal wrapped his arms around his tense boyfriend, nibbling on his jawbone.

Ziim dropped his wrench on the table with a frustrated whine, leaning back to be more comfortable in Dal's arms. "Why can't I do anything right?"

Dal dropped small kisses where he might've bitten a bit too hard. "Oh shut up, Ziim. You don't do anything wrong. It's not your fault this stuff is hard. Hell, you've already done more with it than either of our creators combined." Turning the Irken clone in his arms, Dal pressed his lover against the table, nuzzling the place where he had no nose.

Ziim held back a annoying giggle, since the feeling was quite relaxing if ticklish. All his muscles went lax. Only Dal could do this to him, make him so weak and pliable. "You think so?" What a horrible thing. To be asking for praise from a human. Except, it felt all too right.

"I know so." Incredibly cheesy, Dal thought, but no truer words had ever been spoken.

"Why? How?" It came out a needy whisper, bare hands slid up his human's arms, dug their hooks into Dal's neck in hopes that it marked him enough to keep them connected.

Dal looked into those near red eyes, seeing the pain. The swirling colors that reminded him of blood, nebulas, a million microscopic beads twirling in a torrent of water, the maroon leaking into everything.

"Because I love you." The words were out in the open now, never to be taken back. The universe had heard it and it would guard the syllables with all its strength. It would never disappear. The implication of such words was huge, and Dal was ready to take them on.

Ziim went silent, grip lax. The human sighed, he'd known it would be a long shot to expect his lover to accept the words. "I don't expect you to feel the same or to say it back, you know? I just wanted to let you know the truth and if you don't like it…then I guess—"

"I love you, too."Dal let out a puff of air he hadn't known he'd been holding. For a few seconds it was quiet in the lab, except for Gir's humming a few rooms away, as they took in the utter relief, the wonderful feeling of knowing their love was reciprocated.

Then with a exhilarated laugh, Dal knocked everything off the counter and threw Ziim on top of it, nuzzling the nose less spot again causing the dignified irken to giggle madly, before their lips met in a breath taking kiss. Ziim's toes curled against the black table top; as the human boy put everything he had into the bruising kiss, climbing up on to the counter to straddle the alien.

Their tongues danced in a frenzied tangle, skin heated by the fires that consumed their every waking second, minds fogged with desperate need, eyes drenched with unleashed tears of happiness, mouths obviously preoccupied…their ears filled only with their heavy breathing, the soft whines, moans, whimpers.

******

"Zim! Wait! J-just listen to me, damn it!" Dib yelled, shoving the chair that Zim had thrown in his direction away from him to get a better pathway to the Irken.

"NEVER! Get your…thing! And get out of my base!" When the human made no move to do what he'd been told, Zim growled with rage and slammed a fist into the elevator wall, making it open. Stepping inside he struggled to make it go down faster. Dib shoved himself inside just as the doors closed.

"I hate you!" Zim screeched, shoving Dib away from him.

"I'm not exactly too happy with you right now either, Space-Boy! But, if you would just calm down and give me a second to try to explain—"

"You get none of my time! Zim does not need to listen to you anymore, Dib-Traitor!"

"How, on Ir-Earth, did I betray you? This is all in your mind, alien-scum!" The doors shot open, computer most likely wanting them out of there before they destroyed the interior. Again.

Zim scowled, eyes darting from one corner of his lab to the other, searching for the Dal-Beast to kick him and his master clone out of his b—

Zim stopped, his entire being freezing in shock, blood slowing in his veins as his mind tried to comprehend what exactly he was seeing. His clone, his precious, perfect copy of himself, had its bare claws dug into a pale back, antenna stiff, lips parted and mashed with the others, throat twitching with the low clicking, purring noises that Irkens made in primitive times to signal the desire to mate.

Bile rose up in the back of his throat. The green skin turning greener. It was like watching younger versions of themselves.

Dib who was more focused on Zim, wondered what exactly was wrong with the irken. Once he turned around though no more thoughts could be distinguished in the horrible mess that became his brain. Dal, looming, thrusting his hips, face flushed with pleasure, quietly whispering Ziim's name.

"DAL!" "ZIIM!"

They screamed it at the same time, the rage filled voices echoed off the metal cave that was Zim's underground lab.

Said boy's heads shot up, bodies going worthless with fear.

Dal looked down into the clearing eyes of his lover and knew they were doomed when he saw the joyful light fade from the depths. When neither of them made a move to untangle themselves, too afraid to even speak, Zim took it on himself, storming over and ripped Dal away from Ziim so hard that it left deep gashes in the clone's back as he slammed into the floor. A loud bang sounded, and he winced from the pain, feeling sticky, warm blood pool around him.

Ziim screeched, shoving his 'father' away from him, with a quick kick to his chest, sending Zim stumbling backwards and stepping on the boy who had fallen.

Dib growled, his feelings incredibly jumbled. Dal was practically his son, and instincts demand he protect that. The other part saw Zim be hurt and wanted to teach the one responsible a lesson. Anger was too strong so, he yanked up his kid by the arm and proceeded to scream at Zim. It was obviously his fault all of this happened.

"I told you! Something was off! We should've checked again! But no…"

"Failures! That's nineteen! Nineteen times, Dib! They've failed us again!"

No, Ziim thought, terror filling his soul. Not failures. They would not be destroyed. But, the look on his 'father's face said otherwise.

Dib hissed at the thought, throwing Dal in Zim's direction. The teen landed at the Irken's feet, but kept his eyes on the ground. "We are not going to put them down! They are ours! Obviously it's just something gone wrong with their programming! We can still fix it without destroying them, you moron! Always jumping to conclusions!"

Zim kicked the boy in the face, his rage as always getting the better of him, cursing in vile Irken. "You've rubbed off on your creation, Dib-Perv! You are responsible for this mess!"

Dal yelped, fists clenching as he fought to not lose his own temper. Ziim stayed on the table, frozen unable to do anything but stare down at his injured lover.  
>"Me? How did I have anything to do with this?"<p>

'What happened upstairs was obviously something to do wi—"

"Fuck that, Zim! That was between you and me! This has been going on for a while! Just look at them! It was inevitable!" Dib's glasses began to steam, as they did whenever he was extremely pissed.

"Inevitable?" Zim yanked Dal up by his hair, a pak leg swooping out and pressing threateningly against the vulnerable skin of the clone's neck. "Zim can fix all of this right now!" Dal's eyes slid shut, unable to look at Ziim anymore. He was going to die. "I can end the stupidity that was thi—"

"NO!" Ziim lunged at his creator, snatching up a large, glass test-tube and breaking it over his head. Zim's grip went lax, as he stumbled backwards with a pained cry, letting go of Dal who slumped forward into Ziim's waiting arms.

Pulling his bleeding boyfriend up off the floor and holding him with one arm, Ziim fumbled along the table for a weapon, breaking another glass tube and using one of the shards as a make shift knife. He held it at arm's length in the direction of the adults.  
>"You. Will. Not. Hurt. Him."<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Dib jumped forward and steadied the irken who now had a drop of violet blood dripping from his forehead, and even though it must've hurt Zim's fire red eyes were focused on the two clones as if in disbelief that his creation had not only attacked him but was protecting what was surely spawn from his enemy.

Said spawn was struggling to stand again and with a little help from Ziim, seemed to manage. Dib frowned and stepped forward. "Dal…" Golden eyes matched the ones staring back at him defiantly.

He remembered watching them change colors and seeing the boy before him grow up from that teeny embryo into the teenager before him. "Relax..J-just tell me how this," A hand thrown out with barely restrained contempt between Ziim and his son. "happened."

Zim finally seemed to have gotten his bearings, seeming nearly composed but still standing a good ten feet away from what was happening.

Dal stared back at his creator, nodding slowly. His hand fiddled along Ziim's wrist until their fingers intertwined. "You wanted us to fight. So we did. We fought all the time. I remember drawing his blood. My nose got broken twice in four weeks." Out of the corner of his eye, Dal noticed Ziim nod encouragingly.

"But, neither of us ever wanted to…fight. It hurt and as far as we could see there was no reason to. It was late one night…almost four years ago…when I saw him…"

_The lights were dimmed to the point where it was almost impossible to see anything, and Dal hated the dark. But, he'd left his shoes here, lost somewhere among the tons of lab tables in the heat of the chase, and there was no way he was leaving without them.  
>Stumbling over what was probably another failed experiment of Zim's, Dal grumbled and quietly felt around to try to find his tennis shoes.<em>

_"Come on, damn it." They had to be around her somewhe—The clicking sound of a laser gun firing up had him spinning on his heels, cursing because he was weaponless in enemy territory._

_He prepared to face Ziim's hard look of disgust, prepared himself to feel the burning pain of a laser through his thigh. What he didn't expect was to see tears trailing down the other boy's ivy green cheeks. It looked like he hadn't had the time to wipe them off. The glow of the gun let Dal see every singular detail. Including the narrowed, sorrow filled eyes._

_"Don't move, Dal-Beast. What are you doing here?" He choked out, pretending to be angry was hard when all you wanted to do was crawl into a little ball and die. To his credit the gun didn't even shake in his steady grip._

_Instinct demanded that Dal shout back, maybe make fun of the obvious tears. That would be proper. Instead, Dal stepped forward, the butt of the weapon pressing into his chest._

_He raised a hand and gently whipped every single drop away. It was insane. This was a stupid idea. Why was he doing this? He answered himself; because you would want someone to do it for you. And because Ziim looks so sad you can't stand it._

_Ziim shivered, eyes falling closed in confusion and before he could stop it more tears came. He dropped the gun, where it fell to the floor with a loud clatter, before falling forward to lean onto his greatest enemy. "T-The ship won't work. I've tri-ied so many times. I just want to fly. I wan-want to go home."_

_The human nodded, not so much understanding but knowing it meant much to Ziim. Earth was his home. A very dysfunctional one but one nether the less. Still, something deep inside his cloned heart, Dal knew the pain must've been yawning, and un-mend able. Something had to be done to keep this tiny, kind of awkward trust between them._

_That night they worked together. They wrote out plans, fixed algorithms, and formed a friendship. Dal told the other boy everything, everything about his own mixed longings for normal teenage life. For a real family. Ziim told Dal about wanting to visit Irk. Every other irken out there had been there at least once. Why not him? Outer space had so much to offer. So many different races, places to see._

_The design for the new and improved Ship still had many bugs to work out but it was a new start. A great one. And when Dal stumbled home, feeling more than a bit love sick, it wasn't until he was in bed that he realized he'd left his shoes there anyway._

_For the next few weeks they hid their growing friendship. Often one of them ended up sneaking out to go play video games or to just sit and talk. Laughter was muffled by elbows, pillows and the darkness. It became common place to end up in the same bed, having fallen asleep together._

_And when it came to the continued war between their creators, they learned how to fake punches, use theater magic and stalling tactics._

_Then after a particularly gory video game battle, sitting cross-legged on Dal's bedroom floor, jittery from the cans of PoopCola, they kissed for the first time. It was clumsy of course. Sloppy and inevitably led to much embarrassment and uncertainty. Still after the initial few attempts that too became normal._

_Everything was easy between them. They fit in so many ways. The Irken Spawn and the Human Clone who fought their father's war for them. But even that was fake, nothing but a façade to keep their father's happy, to stall for time on the Ship. The war had to end. It had to end with them. And the only way for that to happen…  
><em>  
>"Is for us to leave." Dal's hands shook, even the one in his lover's grip. "And we are. As soon as it's done. You can't stop us. We're eighteen; we're officially human beings now. We can make our own decisions, damn it and there's nothing you can d—"<p>

Zim who had been standing behind Dib, trying to act placidly and not stare holes into his clone, blew up again. "I beg to differ! We created you! You are nothing but our DNA! You will not go gallivanting into outer space! You are here for one reason and one reason only! To decide…to, uh..decide who…who…" The fist he'd been shaking with much force went limp, as well as his antenna and body as he fought to remember the reason. There had been one. Many of them actually.

Uncertain, he did what he always did when he was in trouble even if he didn't know he did it, turned to Dib. Who stared back with equal surprise and a bit of an 'I told you so' lift to his eyebrows.

Zim had been placed here as an exile officially ten years ago. No need to get Earth for the Armada. Maybe for a while it had been that he wanted to prove himself worthy but even that ship had sailed when they'd ignored his calls. Dib wanted to have recognition, to cut him open to show the world. But, if that had been the truth why not do it now? Now there were two aliens on this planet.

But, then if Dib brought attention to himself people would find out he was a clone. And that the clone had a clone. They would be put under just as much poking and prodding as they would be.

So what was the reason? He began to hyperventilate. Was there even a reason anymore?  
>Dib put a hand on Zim's shoulder and the Irken let it happen. This wasn't the first time that the stupid big head had comforted him. He had a feeling it wouldn't be the last either. He looked back at the two clones, holding hands, watching them and felt sick. Almost something like guilt.<p>

Baring his teeth, Zim pulled away from Dib and glared at the kids. Damn it. He'd been on this dirt ball way too long if he was feeling human emotions now. "You will leave the planet then. When you are ready. I-I am ordering you to go together and uh, not come back. Unless…there's a problem or a malfunction…" He coughed, and tried to sound even more forceful and angry.

An annoying poke caught him off guard. It was the Dib, leaning down to whisper something into his antenna. "Oh yes an-and…you are ordered to return for Christmas…and uh, Thanks giving. Mmmm. Indeed." He crossed his arms snootily, trying to give off an air of uncaring and aloofness. Dib stood back up to his full height, having had to kneel to speak, looking pleased.

Ziim's grip tightened on Dal's hand. This was what they had dreamed of but never thought to get. Acceptance. Even in such an odd form. Their gazes met for a few seconds. One golden brown, filled with joy, the other bright pink and swimming with happy tears.

The war had ended.

_AN:_

_Bask in the newness of this chapter~_

_I've actually been working on this one for a while now. Just writing a bit here and there. I finally got around to finishing it today._

_Also do not worry...there is going to be one more chapter plus an Epilogue._


	5. FINAL

The constant sparking of mechanical parts was not an uncommon sight in the bright green house on the end of a humble street in the tiny nameless town nestled in some forgotten corner of some country or another. It was common enough that the people (and aliens, and A.I.'s) who lived in the home tended to glance first, walk away and ask questions when something blew up. But, tonight it was new. Tonight it was of some big importance.

Zim was in the kitchen, which was peculiar in itself, pacing back and forth, tugging on his antenna. The now ex-invader mumbled continuously while his little minion GIR watched from the table, scarfing down muffins with questionable ingredients.

The elevator whirled in the usual way that elevators do, and the doors whooshed open. Dib strode out covered in all kinds of soot, oil, dirt and perhaps a bit of blood. The main point was that he was filthy and perhaps even more importantly, shirtless. His pale white chest still held all the scars of long ago.

He tilted his overly large head to the side when he saw Zim wearing a path in the tile. When the Invader never looked up, Dib knew that he must've been really stressed to not even notice his presence. Taking a very big chance, the chance being that he might lose an eye or a hand, Dib strode over and wrapped both arms around the alien menace.

Zim screeched in that high pitched way of his, flailing around in an attempt to shake whatever had him off. After a few seconds though, the familiar scent and feel made him stop. The dirt almost overpowered the cool winter smell that was the human but, it was there and it still calmed him. Sighing, the irken rolled his eyes when he looked down at the arms folded around him, seeing the mess.

Aloofly, he leaned back a teeny tiny bit into the embrace but otherwise made no move to return the affection. "Dib-Filth." He sniffed, raising a hand and poking at the other's arm. "Have you no idea of hygiene?"

"Oh shut-up, you Monster. I was down stairs, helping. Unlike some green, bald aliens with height afflictions." Dib swayed their bodies a little bit. Zim grimaced but whether it was because of the insults or the continued hugging was anyone's guess.

"Y-you uh, they are fine. Zim doesn't need to do anything." It was Dib's turn to sigh. He felt his glasses starting to slip as he spoke.

"Zim…we both knew it was going to happen eventually. I thought you were okay with this?" The alien ripped himself from Dib's grasp and spun on his heel to face him. There was a very noticeable blue flush of rage on jade skin.

"Zim is fine! I'm perfectly fine with all of this! I said they could leave! They will leave! I just wish they would go faster! Yes. That's it. They must go faster. I want my house to myself." He raised his chin, defiantly, closing his eyes for a few seconds to try to bask in the glow of his victory in the argument when Dib didn't respond. But, after almost a minute, curiosity got the better of him and he open them.

Dib's eyebrow was raised in an expression of disbelief. "Are you done?"

Immediately, the alien's face morphed into his pouting one. All the air seemed to go out of his ego for a few seconds, as he stepped forward and pushed the human's glasses back up with his finger. "Yes. No. I don't know."

Dib smiled slightly, but it was a bitter-sweet one. "I know how you feel, Space-Boy." He snatched the other's hand before it could retreat. "They are ours. We grew them from our own cells. We practically raised them together. I care for both of them. We made the fight because that was all we knew and because we thought they might be able to settle this war between us, when all along there was no war left." He lifted the green hand, admired the three fingers. "They deserve to be able to make their own decisions." He felt the irken try to snatch his hand away in anger and held it fast, speaking before Zim could. "I know, you know. But, you obviously wish it was different."

Dib looked up from their hands, under his lashes. "They are going to leave. But, I will still be here, Zim. Always." The Irken's anger drained and he cursed himself once again for being weak and too human for anyone's good. Still he allowed the hand holding. He nodded, stiffly.

Releasing the alien's hand, Dib walked over to the fridge and grabbed out a soda, chugged it and threw one last smile Zim's way before heading off to shower. Said alien watched the other go, with approval, glad Dib was showering and also proud because he'd chosen wisely his mate.

Dal smirked in Ziim's direction, across the room. They exchanged their usual look of faith and love and lust, only this time it was different because between them sat a large, nearly completed ship painted in beautiful tones of magenta and blues. Also, their creators were there, bickering about the finishing touches to what Dib had claimed the 'Love Ship'. Zim hated that name, said it brought back too many horrible memories of his first few years on Earth.

The two clones could really care less. They were busy plotting their course for the next year or so. First would be Irk. They wouldn't get to stay long but, Zim had made some calls and with his connections they would be able to at least visit without being attacked. Then they would turn around, explore as many other planets as possible and be back to Earth just in time for Thanksgiving. Who knew what they would do after that. Maybe fly back out into the stars. Maybe settle down and do what Dal had always wanted to do; be normal. Ziim wasn't entirely opposed to that idea. Everything would be fine and dandy and just plain butterflies and supernovas as long as Dal was there.

Dib finally with Zim's approval, spray painted the word 'Bellom' on the sides. Apparently, in Irken it meant roughly, The War is over.

Zim was pretty god damn stoic. Dib smiled with that wonderful, bitter-sweet grin he seemed to have perfected over the years. Ziim was just happy to leave, quickly setting all their stuff inside, rather haphazardly. Dal was then busy fixing everything that Ziim threw into the ship haphazardly.

Finally though, the moment had come. The roof was open wide, revealing the amethyst night sky with all its vague stars. All the opportunities lay before them. Zim had his arms crossed over in the corner, watching as Dib and his son hugged.

"Hey." The older version whispered, as he lightly punched his clone on the shoulder. "I'm proud of you for doing what you want to do. For doing what makes you happy." Dib felt choked up saying this as it had always been what he'd wanted his own father to say to him. It had never happened. He'd been fool in almost doing the exact same thing to his own child.

Dal beamed at his creator. "Thanks…dad." His golden eyes flickered over to Zim. The Irken nodded, in an approving way and that was enough for him.

Ziim strode over to Zim and after a few seconds bowed his head to his master's shoulder. The older irken grit his teeth, fists clenching, gloves squeaking in obvious strain before he shook his head and lifted the clone's chin with a finger.

He pressed their foreheads together and let their antenna intertwine. It was affection in the highest form, a bonding experience that was never preformed anymore because Irkens had no parents to do so with.

Ziim smiled softly, feeling honored and stupidly like crying before he stepped back. Nothing was said because that was all that needed to be said.

Together Dal and Ziim walked over to the ship and let their hands curl around each others. The night drive would be a long one. They had a limited amount of time, but then again in space time was nothing but an illusion. Dib waved at the two of them, patting Ziim on the back before joining the pouting Irken in the back of the room, away from the heat of the ship's engine to watch as they took off.

The doors closed on the Bellom, the engines started up with a loud whirl. Blue flames licked out of its exhaust pockets and with a screech of hyper speed it rocketed, up and up and up until it became a speck of light that might as well have been an oddly colored star.

Zim's expression finally drooped as he leaned into his pathetic human. "Do you think they will be okay? They are horrible versions of us after all."

Dib smiled down at the mope-y irken. "Hey, we're alive now aren't we? Despite all the odds." He glanced back up at the evening sky, unable to distinguish the ship from the cosmos any longer. "Yeah, Space-Boy. If they are anything like their fathers, they'll be fine."

War's of Our Fathers

-fin-


End file.
